


Roulette

by rollingwave



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Episode: s01e16 Risk, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rollingwave/pseuds/rollingwave
Summary: John drives Adam home after celebrating that nights01e16: risk





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fast Lane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/351198) by [devera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devera/pseuds/devera). 



> guess who just watched s01e16 and couldnt stop thinking of the way john and adam stare at each other  
> this was written really quickly and barely edited but here it is xoxo

They're entering the club later that night, passing a long line of people dressed to party, but are now stuck shivering in the cold. Adam turns and gives John a proud grin that stretches so wide it's almost a smirk. He has only known Adam for half a day but he can already read the kid well enough, and he clearly thrives on other people's reactions to his behaviour. In the car on the way to this place Adam had, dangerously, probably paid more attention to John than the road as he was speeding past street after street. John couldn't do other than to hold on and to somewhat try to hide the fact that he was starting to like this kid.

Adam had seemed pleased with that reaction then, just as he's glowing in response to the disappointed moans and jealous whispers coming from the queue outside the club as they pass them by. He shrugs as the VIP entrance is held open by a wide-shouldered man, and John doesn't bother containing his amused eye-roll.

"I know someone who knows someone who- you know," Adam explains, but it's done halfheartedly, the words trying to be nonchalant, and John can tell how Adam eagerly, again, awaits his reaction. Before John knows it, he's raising an unironic eyebrow to indicate how impressed he is, even though he feels nothing of the sort. There's something in him that wants to indulge this kid, something that's a bit interested to see how what he expected to be a wall street drag is quickly turning out to be somewhat more of a daredevil that actually puts down the work. The fact that he's obnoxious and can't seem to stand down from a fight, let alone not have the last word- well, it's not like John is one to judge. Takes one to know one, and all that.

John moves his arms in the tightly fitted suit, trying to loosen it a bit- not used to it restraining him like this. The club seems calm enough, as calm as a club filled with Wall street suits can be on a day like this, when half of them are celebrating something big, and the other half is already bottles down into mourning. Adam finds them a table that is quickly approached by a couple of ladies, all stiletto high, and as John watches them giggle and sway, seems like that’s not the only thing they’re high on. Adam's smirk is back again, and he leans back in a sofa, arms resting wide along its back. John lets the girls sit down first, lets two of them fill the space between him and Adam. He hasn't more than settled before Adam is leaning over, somehow his eyes already glazing over even though John didn't spot any alcohol, no white powder shying its way into the kid’s vicinity. He's here to keep an eye on him, after all. Adam is pushing over the ladies' legs, and over their giggles he gives John's suit a pointed nod.

"You can lose that, y'know," he insists, loud, and again not as relaxed as John suspects he'd want it to sound. At John's slow tilt of his head, Adam holds his hands up, and with a white-toothed smile now emerging, he retreats back into his seat. "You've been itching in it all day, man, just sayin'."

There's a girl to John's left, a light hand on his shoulder, slowly working itself under his jacket. She murmurs something into his ear, but he doesn't pay enough attention to it, just thinks of how visible his gun might be, tucked under his shirt, pressing at his lower back. Usually he'd keep it in a holster, but that just wouldn't do this time, Finch had insisted, not with this suit. He gently shakes the girl's hand off him and takes off his jacket. He knows Adam pretends not to look, but man, the kid's clearly not as good a liar as he thinks himself to be, and John almost wants to keep going, wants to roll up his sleeves just to keep those shining eyes on him a bit longer. Someone politely grabs the jacket as soon as it's off, and he quickly checks on the gun behind him, a light tap with his fingers, but as he brings his hand in front of him again, he sees how the girl next to him has noticed. Her eyes grow big, her movement frozen. She hesitates no longer than a moment and he gives her a tense smile, the only he's had to force all day since that first handshake with Saunders. Her dark skin is glittering in the colourful lights of the club, big golden hoops emerging from thick hair surrounding her. She melts suddenly, apparently deciding to let it slide.

" _t's fine_ ," she assures him, hands now coming to rest on his back, his bicep. "Surprised me, is all." John doesn't want to think too hard about what this girl must have seen for her to so easy dismiss the firearm and then crawl up onto the man carrying it. John hums something, low, just to fill the silence, even though the place is bustling with sounds, music pumping in his ears. "Thought you were just a boring wall street-" she continues, and John turns to face her, noses almost bumping.

He feels Adam's eyes on him, feels them burning into his side. John raises a slow hand, puts his finger upon the girl’s lips and mouths a quiet “shh”. She beams at the action, limbs wrapping themselves tighter around him as she nods eagerly. As if to prove her complete co-operation, she mimes a key to her lips, throws it far behind her.

So there he is, pretending to be some whale's assets manager, with a girl attached to his side, trying to keeping an eye out for a kid that's not-so-discreetly snorting something off of the glass table in front of him. He glances at the watch on his wrist, and contemplates how much longer this might go on. Adam’s number came up, so he does need to stick around, and especially now when the kid’s hastily shaking his head, drugs quickly entering his system.

When Adam opens his eyes again, they’re focused on John. John lets him look, doesn’t bother looking away or pretending he wasn’t watching him already. A dark, eager smile grows on Adam’s face, tenses his cheeks and John shifts his focus to the kid’s neck, where his pulse must be racing. There are girls on Adam as well, John realises, as one of them licks a long line along that throat, leaving the skin glistening. Even Adam seems surprised by the girl’s daring move, and his eyes leave John’s, as his interest shift to the body currently pressed up against his side.

John looks away as well when Adam sucks the girl’s tongue into his mouth, and then suddenly he has to deal with the beauty on his left. Because she is beautiful, John won’t deny that: he doesn’t know how old she is, however, nor how intoxicated she is at this moment. Where he normally might have indulged in some not-so-innocent flirting to pass the time until something finally happened, he now feels uninterested. Begrudgingly, he realises that if he asks her to leave, he’ll have to spend the rest of the time in this club alone, watching Adam celebrate with the tits currently climbing into his lap. He wishes for some comment from Finch, anything really, but he’s gone conveniently quiet. The girl says something to him, and when he focuses on her face, he decides it must have been a question, because her nose is scrunched up into something that soon can turn into a disappointed frown, but so far just indicates her confusion. John contains the sigh that wants to push out of his chest: he feels too old, too constrained, too hot. The suit is fine, but impractical and uncomfortable to say the least- the smallest movement makes the fabric stretch somewhere else. He doesn’t want to bother with this girl, but, he admits to himself, he’d rather she wouldn’t leave either. He puts the same finger on her lips, a repeated motion, and the soon-to-be frown shifts into a shy smile.

“Not a man of many words, eh?” she whispers, and he gives a small nod, a forced smile he’s perfected to not look the least tense. Just as she moves to throw a leg over his lap, there’s a clattering of glasses to his right. John reacts instinctively, one hand going for a holster that isn’t there, while he assesses the situation unfolding in front of him. One of the bankers from earlier has stumbled up to their sofas, now clutching a broken bottle, pushing aside a distressed waitress. Adam looks completely out of it, barely recognising the colleague that has approached, let alone the risk he is currently facing. John pushes away the girl, not even hearing her objection as she lands on the sofa, and steps between Adam and the man with the bottle. Adam seems to have caught up with the situation, somewhat anyway, because John hears him mumbling vaguely behind him, but John focuses on the drunk instead. He snatches the bottle out of his hand, and rapidly punches his knuckles into the man’s throat, making him lose his breath and stumble backwards. When John turns, Adam is eyeing the man on the floor with wide eyes, mouth open but silent. John doesn’t bother looking for his suit jacket, but rather decides that this is it, and he hauls Adam’s up off the sofa with a steady arm under the other man’s armpit. He gets them out of the club in seconds, a bit slower than he’d prefer, but Adam is struggling next to him, his feet lagging behind.

They exit through the kitchen, into a dark alley with only one occupant: a chef that quickly dumps their cigarette and scrambles back inside at the sight of John’s stern face. He’s dropped today’s role, the assets manager left inside.

“That was-” Adam starts, glancing back at the kitchen door, one hand gesturing back towards the club.

“Trouble,” John finishes, and he does roll up his sleeves now, just to have something to do as Adam gathers himself. The kid turns towards him, the question he seems to be savouring slowly slipping away.  
“Come on,” he orders then, “party’s over.” He grabs Adam’s elbow, but the kid refuses to move. That’s not to say that he _doesn’t_ move, but John feels the resistance. He looks back, and Adam is grinning again, hair a bit askew, lips red. “What?” John sighs.

“Party doesn’ have to be over,” Adam slurs, and if possible, his smile seems to be growing larger. John shakes his head, rolls his eyes- the kid was more fun when he was sober, when he wasn’t so obvious.

“Let me drive you home,” John insists, even though he could easily haul Adam to his car, rather than try to convince him to move.

“I’m celebrating,” Adam says then, as if that would explain it all.

“You can celebrate at home,” John counters, but that wasn’t was he intended to say at all. Perhaps a “you’ve celebrated enough”, or something else stoic and boring, but what comes out of his mouth reaches Adam as a flirtation- a suggestion. The kid comes willingly after that, and doesn’t cause more trouble until they reach his car.

“Keys,” John demands, and a silent conversation follows, where John insists that Adam is not in a condition to drive. It ends with Adam throwing up his hands in surrender, accepting his decision. John lets out another heavy sigh and holds out an open palm, urging for Adam to hand over the keys. The kid lets his hands stay in the air, grinning like nothing else, like he isn’t teasing the representative of the biggest client his company has had in a long time. John stomps over to him, and tugs hard on the other man’s jacket, hands quickly searching the pockets for the keys. He finds them in the left pocket of Adam’s trousers, and the fact that the kid seems to be enjoying himself only fuels John’s frustration.

He drives the car fast and hard, wanting to outdo the kid’s earlier wild ride, but he’s being bitter and petty, and the vehicle groans under his hands. Adam seems content, however, a lopsided grin still on his face, body relaxed against the expensive seats. He doesn’t seem to doubt John’s driving, the same way he doesn’t question how John knows where he lives.

He misses when John throws him the keys, and just keeps stumbling towards the elevator at the end of the parking garage. John grunts and picks them up from the floor, now again too aware of the gun in his trousers. Adam is leaning against a mirror-clad wall in the elevator, head dropped back, throat exposed. John steps in after him, and it isn’t until the doors have slid shut, and Adam has grabbed his collar with both hands that he realises that he didn’t have to follow him up to the apartment. He’s pressing an insistent mouth against John’s jaw, hands clutching the fine fabric of the shirt, while he pushes John towards a wall.

“ _Shit_ ,” Adam mutters, fingers now struggling with the buttons down John’s chest. “Shit, you have _no_ idea-” The sentence ends in a breath, as the kid latches onto his throat again and _sucks_. John almost doesn’t want to enjoy it, just to annoy the kid, while he’s also too aware of how most elevators have cameras these days- and he knows just who will be watching. Even though Finch has been silent this last hour- probably busy with one or both of the dirty cops they’re currently using, but John wouldn’t put it past him to tune into the elevator’s camera as soon as he’s located John again. Not to mention that buildings as nice as these usually has a guard that regularly scans the surveillance videos.

Adam slams a hand down on a button next to John’s hip, and the elevator slumps into a halt. The kid looks up at John, eyes glittering now, his otherwise neatly brushed hair now ruffled, and he looks so pleased- you’d think he’s already gotten off. John raises an eyebrow, in agreement or real frustration, he doesn’t really know himself, but when Adam pushes against him again, he lets himself relax just a little, letting out the faintest of breaths.

“You don’t understand,” Adam breathes, hands working on the buttons again, changing course and trembling over John’s rib cage. “I thought I’d get some old man, glasses and a cane, and hair gel and you know-” He shoves a leg between John’s and slowly grinds against him. “There you are, with your- and your, and your _voice_ just-” The sentences fade after that, and John grins at the praise. He had seen it in the kid’s eyes as soon as he’d surprised him that morning, had seen the appreciation, the way the kid had looked him over. It hadn’t been discreet, but John figures he didn’t even know he was doing it.

The kid is so eager, shoving off his own jacket, and John watches as he struggles with that purple tie of his- and John gets all kinds of ideas of what it could be used for, but not here- not in this elevator. Although Adam seems determined for whatever’s going to happen, to happen _here_ , and John would like to say that, _hey, that whale I’m representing? He’s watching right now_ , but he realises that perhaps he doesn’t care that much. Finch could just look away, after all, and it’s not like John isn’t doing his job- he’s looking after the kid.

The frustration that had been building in John seems to slip away, and he chases it for a second- he had almost looked forward to some angry sex, something where you push and sweat and use your muscles properly- but he’s tired now. His body relaxes against the wall, hands clutching the railing, letting Adam take the lead.

The kid seems surprised at that, even pulls away for a second, a confused look on his face, maybe a bit disappointed too, as if he’d been pushing John for that very purpose. Soon he gets back to it, however, hands working their way southward, mouth worrying at his jaw, throat, collarbones- but never his mouth. John tries to not read too much into it, and he doesn’t get time to either, as Adam undoes his belt and quickly shoves a hand into his trousers. John tenses at that, a low grunt escaping his throat.

“Reese?” Finch voice pipes up, and John had almost forgotten about him there for a second.

“What a wonderful moment for you to tune in,” John grits through his teeth, and Adam lets out a chuckle, hand groping at his dick through his underwear.

“There was trouble with Fusco,” Finch explains hurriedly, unnecessarily. “Are you alright? I’m locking in on your position now-”

“‘M fine,” John insists, and Adam slides if possible even closer, forehead dropped onto John’s chest. There’s a murmur sounding like something resembling “yeah, you are” whispered into his shirt, but John doesn’t pay attention.

“Got you,” Finch continues, “seems like there’s an issue with the elevator, I’ll have visual-” John hears the moment the camera feed connects for Finch, the moment the image from the “broken” elevator must fill the screen in front of him. It just happens to be the same moment that Adam pulls John out of his underwear and sinks to his knees. John doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself letting out a breath, loud enough for Finch to hear, he knows, and his eyes find the camera in the ceiling. He pushes his eyes closed the second he realises what he’s doing, and his mouth falls open as Adam slides his very hot mouth onto his dick. John can’t focus on Finch, just hopes he does the decent thing and shuts the fuck up, and also preferably stops watching, but you can’t be picky, really.

Adam doesn’t seem to be bothering going easy, just pushes until his nose hits the hand he’s clutching around the base, and John can’t understand why this kid has him so far gone already, why just Adam seems to get him to tick.

It’s been quite a long while for John since he let himself have something like this- for him to have _time_ for something like this. Not that he’s had a heavily drug-induced 20-something on his knees in front of him in an elevator before, but it’s been a while. John isn’t proud of it, but soon his legs are shaking, and he desperately tries to thrust into Adam’s mouth, even though the kid pulls off every time he does so.

“Man,” he coughs, wet and ragged. “I can’t, sorry, I-” he mutters after the third time, and John opens his eyes and gives the kid a soft smile, something he knows doesn’t fit his face. He grabs him by the short hair, guides him back. “Just hold your breath,” John suggests, unhelpfully, and starts thrusting again. The kid’s eyes are watering now, those already red whites turning redder, shinier under the yellow light of the elevator. He’d figured Adam had done something like this before, with how eager, how confident he was at first- but he realizes that was probably just the coke. John lets him go after a couple of thrusts, and Adam pulls off quickly, a disbelieving look on his eyes. He stares up at John as he breathes heavily, the breaths rasping through his chest.

“Thought you’d like this,” John mutters, and he knows it’s mean, knows it is because he’s seen how Adam never backs down from a challenge. And the kid is insistent, shakes his head then nods and grabs John’s hand, puts it back in his hair, as if to prove that yes, he does like it.

Whether he actually does or not, John isn’t so concerned.

 

His body is fluttering with electricity by the time he moves Adam onto his cock again- the heat pushing at his skin, boiling in his palms, his groin. He wishes he could hold onto longer, that he could throw the kid around a bit more, but he’s too tightly wound, too eager, really.

His orgasm hits him suddenly, and he tightens the grip in the kid’s hair as he comes. Adam gurgles and struggles to get away, and John keeps him for just a second or two until he lets go, and watches as the kid tries to swallow rather than spit it all back onto John’s expensive trousers. John shifts his feet and watches as most of it ends up on the floor, as Adam’s face reddens with embarrassment. John adjusts his pants, fastens his belt again, before he grabs the kid by the collar. Adam reacts sluggishly to the action as John hauls him up and walks him over till he’s pushed into the other wall. His eyes are wide, mouth the darkest red and his cheeks glittering with tears. John grins as he goes in for a kiss, and rejoices in the panic he feels practically reeking off the kid as he realises what’s happening. There’s a scrambled sentence, something resembling objection, that John decisively swallows down, silences. Adam seems unable to stay still, hands constantly moving over John’s arms, but not really touching, either.

“Let me guess,” John breathes heavily as he lets the kid go, but Adam speaks up before he gets to continue. He seems upset, almost angered.

“ _I’m not gay_ ,” he insists, but it comes out with too much force, too much that proves that it’s an obvious attempt of convincing himself.

“Sure you aren’t,” John mumbles, and pushes him harder into the wall. “That’s why you just sucked my cock, right?” Adam visibly flinches at the words. “That’s why you stared at me all day?” He lets his hand slip between their bodies, and Adam is staring at him, mouth gaping, forehead forced into a hurt frown. John grins, shakes his head, and goes in for another kiss. The kid moans straight away this time, no objection even, and that, John thinks, is just too easy. He puts his hand back on the kid’s hip, pushes a leg between Adam’s, pressing against his dick. Adam seemingly stops breathing then, as if John has somehow showed him something completely new, something magical- as if they weren’t just rutting in some (now) filthy elevator.

It doesn’t take very long until Adam’s legs buckle and he practically mewls into John’s ear as he comes. His hands are weakly clutching John’s wrinkled shirt, his head hung low, chest heaving.

 

“What floor?” John insists then, and he can tell Adam doesn’t like it, doesn’t like this sudden pull back into reality.

“Uh-huh,” the kid mutters, shaking his head. “You can’t come in,” he says, and John remembers Finch’s words, about the kid not having any furniture, just a wardrobe stacked with cash. Somehow it triggers a thought in John of how he’s just fucked a number, someone who’s actually a job, and another thought nags at him and points out how it’s a bit curious that Finch’s presence didn’t have the same effect. He shakes the thoughts away.

“Well then,” he says flatly, stepping back from the kid. He doesn't know if he's disappointed or just annoyed. Looking over his shoulder, he presses a button, putting the elevator into motion again. Another quick touch and it’s stopping at the next floor, and John walks off. Adam remains in the elevator, chest heaving, his pants a mess. John can tell he expected him to argue, to insist on going all the way, so to speak. 

“See you in the morning, then,” John says simply, and turns towards the stairs. The doors to the elevator stand open for a while longer, but there's nothing coming from Adam in that time- no goodbye, no complaints.


End file.
